


Your Love is My Drug

by chucks_prophet



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accidental Drug Use, African Dream Root, Bickering, Clothed Sex, Cum Play, Frottage, M/M, Praise Kink, Slightly crack, Smut, Somewhat Emotional Smut, Spit As Lube, Spit Kink, they are a married couple
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2020-11-16
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:47:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27587675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chucks_prophet/pseuds/chucks_prophet
Summary: "You know what, Cas,” Dean asserts, shooting up from the bed, “I'm getting a little fed up with the way you speak to me."Cas stands up too, going as far as to fold his arms over his chest. "Dean Winchester fed up with logic, what a shock.""Cas, I swear to God, if you patronize me one more time, I'll—” Without second thought, Dean fists Cas’s shirt and pulls him into his lips. "And I may even just—” He cuts himself off and kisses Cas again. This time, when Cas responds, Dean runs his tongue along the seam of Cas's bottom lip.
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 3
Kudos: 71





	Your Love is My Drug

**Author's Note:**

> So, uh, this was only supposed to be a steamy makeout scene.... obviously, with it being rated E, that didn't happen. It also got emotional because I can't just write straight smut. I blame my best friend, Alyssa, who gave me this idea. And also my beta, Shalina (ralsbecket), for encouraging me. (TY, bbs. <3)

"Are you sure this was a good idea?" Cas asks, glancing over at Dean. With Sam working his own case with Eileen, the motel room they rented feels somewhat empty, every sound amplified. Dean doesn’t startle easily, but the rattle of the AC and the creak of the respective beds they sit on, facing each other, unnerve him for some reason.

"Is _anything_ we ever do a good idea?" Dean counters. "Look, the guy who sold it to me in the shop told me it was dream root. Apparently they just sell it in tablet form now.”

Cas sputters the beer he’s drinking. "You don't remember his name? That's reassuring."

"No, I didn't catch his name because _someone_ decided to call me in the middle of the purchase and cry over spilt milk— _literally_."

"How are milk cartons not ergonomically friendly?"

Keeping Dean from rolling his eyes are the hands he drags down his face in exasperation. "Look, go make yourself useful and check outside to see if the rain’s falling in reverse.”

Cas ogles him as if Dean just told him he has a craving for Koolickles.

“You… when you’re inside someone’s head, shit gets all _Dark Side of the Moon,_ and—” Dean sighs, setting his beer on the nightstand next to Cas’s. “Never mind, it’s just it usually it works by now."

"Maybe he just sold you placebos."

"You know what, Cas,” Dean asserts, shooting up from the bed, “I'm getting a little fed up with the way you speak to me."

Cas stands up too, going as far as to fold his arms over his chest. "Dean Winchester fed up with logic, what a shock."

"Cas, I swear to God, if you patronize me one more time, I'll—” Without second thought, Dean fists Cas’s shirt and pulls him into his lips. "And I may even just—” He cuts himself off and kisses Cas again. This time, when Cas responds, Dean runs his tongue along the seam of Cas's bottom lip.

When Dean pulls back, he finds Cas’s eyes laying tracks on his face for his too-blue eyes to travel. He licks where Dean did, double-glazing the swell of his bottom lip. He then guides two fingers into his mouth that glisten when he draws them back out. He slips them beneath the waistline of his pants, fist visible beneath the confines of the black fabric as he works himself over languidly, breath hitching and body convulsing to the rhythm of his own undoing.

Cas makes the mistake of tilting his head back, because that’s Dean’s own undoing. He throws Cas onto the bed before sucking a bruising kiss onto his neck, eliciting goosebumps Dean extinguishes with the pad of his tongue. "I hate you,” Dean growls, fumbling with the buttons on Cas’s shirt. He punctuates each statement that follows with kisses he lays down the length of his newly exposed torso: “You infuriate me. You always have to be right. You can never let well enough alone.”

Cas’s moan is guttural. Dean can feel the tendons in the wrist holding his hardness tighten against his waist, and the fire inside him only burns hotter. He yanks Cas’s hand out from underneath his pants and laps the beads of pre-cum trapped between the webs of Cas’s fingers. He then spits it back into Cas’s mouth as he pins Cas’s hands over his head.

Cas gladly takes it—swirling the contents of both himself and Dean around like he’s taste-tasting a well-aged wine before his Adam’s apple bobs up to collect it.

“You like that, huh?” Dean teases, lowering his hips and drags his own hardness against Cas’s, “Nothing like swallowing your own words.”

Cas yanks him down by the nape of his neck, their tongues the only airbags saving them from another bruising kiss. Dean releases Cas’s other hand so he can unbutton Dean’s flannel. Dean helps him, breaking away from Cas long enough to shrug the rest of the way out of it. He’s about to lift his undershirt over his head when Cas, with a hand on his wrist, stops him.

Dean uncrosses his arms clutching the hem of his shirt, breathing heavy as Cas peels it away instead. It’s a slow, unhurried movement, unlike everything that led to this. Cas runs his fingers in a soft undulation over every depression and scar on Dean’s chest.

Dean’s done this song and dance hundreds of times with hundreds of people, but never has it felt this intimate—this _personal—_ until he remembers that Cas rebuilt him when he pulled him from Hell.

He’s admiring his work.

“You’re beautiful, Dean,” is all he says—and all he _needs_ to say for Dean to dive back in to kiss him.

Cas cums first—of _course he does, they can never be on the same page_ —and the final convulsions of his body is all the friction Dean needs to do the same.

As he flops down next to Cas, Dean poses, "I think he sold us Ecstasy."

"You think?" Cas scoffs.

"Shut up,” Dean snaps, this time shutting him up with another kiss.


End file.
